One Dance
by I'mDatingTheReceptionist
Summary: Just a quick oneshot based around the Yule Ball. H/H.


Hermione eyes are stinging. Her butt is almost numb from sitting on the steps all night, but still she doesn't move, and lets students walk past her, having finished for the evening. Tear stains track down her cheeks and she wipes the remaining ones away, already feeling more push through. At first, pure white anger had raced into her chest but now only deep sadness resides there, and it's pulsing through her body, something Hermione hasn't been able to control for the majority of the night. Until now, thankfully. Her dress is pooled around her and she tucks it underneath her legs, sighing as she rests her head on her knees and looks out at the almost empty dance floor, where a few couples are dancing together and Hermione can see off to the side, a group of Beaubaxton students quietly talking in French before giggling.

She swallows the lump in her throat as her eyes drink in the beautiful white ballroom. This was supposed to be her night, something she would remember for many years to come. Oh she would remember this all right. But not for the reasons intended.

Of course Ron had completely ruined it, with his spoilt, awful behaviour but what stunned Hermione to the bone was how Harry had responded to it. She had expected Ron to be petty, but for Harry to not speak up, or defend her for that matter, floored her. It was so unlike him and yet...yet she could not exactly blame him. She had been fired up and while she had had every right to be frustrated with Ron, she didn't need to snap at Harry like that. A sudden guilt floats into her being and she purses her lips, ignoring the growing lump in her throat and finally taking her eyes off the ballroom to go to her discarded heels on the step below her. Staring out at the done up Great Hall only hurt, balancing greatly with the bitterness she felt for Ron, who she needed to have a proper talk with eventually. Harry too.

Everyone has gone up to bed, with the exception of the couples and Beaubaxtons students, and she sighs again, now considering heading up to the common room herself. No doubt it was getting late, and she can already feel a headache creeping in from all the crying she has been doing in for who knows how long she has spent in the same spot.

She pulls on her shoes and is just about to stand, before movement catches her eye and she stills as the tall figure of Professor Snape comes striding through into the hall. What was he doing up so late? Checking on students out "after hours" no doubt.

He stops in the doorway, but doesn't venture in and for a fleeting moment, Hermione finds herself watching him in curiosity. He lingers there, eyeing the students, before turning around and walking back down the hall he had just come from. Hermione listens to his shoes echo off the stone floor before gathering herself again and standing upright, her heels catching her off balance for a few seconds.

She's too in her own head to hear footsteps padding quietly down to her and she almost jumps out of her skin when a soft voice says her name,

"Hermione?"

He appears right beside her and as Hermione calms her thudding heart, relief suddenly floods her when she realises it's only Harry. He's still in his dress robes, much to her surprise, along with his matching shoes. His hair's ruffled and his green eyes are shining from the lights in the stairwells as they meet her brown ones.

She can't help but smile in utter disbelief, "Harry, what are you doing? I thought you were going up to the Common Room with Ron."

He too smiles and an almost sheepish look comes across his face, "I snuck out when he fell asleep." His expression changes to concern, "What are you doing out here?"

Hermione scoffs, "Trying to forget about tonight." Her bitterness comes back and she looks away, "Trust Ronald to spoil everything."

At the memory of him, tears prick at the corners of her eyes again and she lets out a sudden choked sob, "Oh, Harry, why didn't he ask me earlier?"

Harry shifts from foot to foot as Hermione practically dissolves into tears right in front of him. Just as she is about to collapse on the steps and become a crying mess, Harry takes her arm and she reluctantly looks up at him, her eyes puffy. He tries a smile and she offers a wobbly one, his voice soft,

"If it helps, I didn't have a great night either."

Hermione laughs and wipes her eyes, wishing with everything that she had a tissue handy. Harry smiles again but this time, it's a genuine one. He takes her hand and she sighs,

"Maybe we could have a terrible night together."

Hermiones cheeks redden but she lets Harry lead her down the steps and back into the Great Hall. At this, the Beauxbatons immediately halt their conversation to watch them, vivid jealousy flickering across one of their faces which makes Hermiones chest glow.

Despite the floor being cleared sans the remaining Hogwarts couples, there is still a quiet melody playing from the corner of the room, a beautiful song of piano and violin, something neither of them recognise but ultimately let guide them. They find a spot and Harry takes Hermiones waist, while Hermione rests a hand on his shoulder, and the two spin around the dance floor. As expected, Harry is a very average dancer, losing his footing a few times, so it's Hermione who eventually takes the lead, already having danced perfectly with Krum. It's not a match with Victor, but it is their own and they soon find themselves drifting away from the traditional waltz to just holding eachother and swaying on the floor, moving far away from the other couples to be alone with one another.

Hermiones chin rests on his shoulder, her hand beside it, and as she watches the violins play themselves, the band having retired for the night, a thought comes to her, "Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?" He has his arms around her.

"Who would you have taken to the Ball if you had worked up the courage to ask someone?"

He grins, "Dunno, really." He pauses. "Luna?"

She snorts, "Not Ginny?" He goes quiet and she rolls her eyes, not wanting to press further. She already knows his feelings for her, but this isn't exactly the right time to bring such a topic to the surface.

As the music comes to a gradual close, they stop swaying and let go of one another, Harry still having a hold of her hand.

"Better?"

Hermione beams, her eyes twinkling, "Yes."

Without so much as a word, Harry leads Hermione past the girls and to the stone steps, both feeling much happier and comforted than they had the entirety of the night. They don't need to tell Ron about this. Why should he know anyway?


End file.
